


Bucket List

by Sorida



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Bucket List, Carlos Dies, Cecil Tries, I hope this is ok, M/M, WTNVSS, i'm so late, i'm so sorry this is late!!!!, i'm totes making it up to you, not literally tho, probably the fluffiest thing i've written to date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3207356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorida/pseuds/Sorida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very, very late present for my WtNV Secret Santa. Cecil accidentally stumbles upon Carlos' Bucket List...and he is determined to make everything happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Planned Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil finds an intriguing list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for my WtNVSS nothistoryyet over on tumblr. I am so, so, so sorry this is so extremely late. I shouldn't do this next year, I'll keep that in mind.
> 
> The fic turned into a sort of Five Times type of thing??? Wasn't the intention, but I rolled with it...although there's seven instead of five and a little bit of whump. Not graphic at all, but it's there because really, Carlos taking care of Cecil makes for lovely fluff.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

It had been an accident. He hadn't been looking for anything specific or ridiculously personal, but it had just kind of flown out of Carlos' desk and Cecil just so happened to pick it up and his eyes just so happened to read the words on the page...

Well, needless to say, it was quite the discovery.

Traditionally in Night Vale, all citizens created their Bucket Lists in preschool. It helped children understand the fleeting nature of life at a young age, especially considering a little under half the preschool class usually got kidnapped by Hooded Figures or carted off to the Abandoned Mine Shaft as early recruitment for the Sheriff's Secret Police. Cecil's Bucket List was buried somewhere in the first couple pages of his Little Reporter's Notebook of Big Boy Note-Taking. He hadn't bothered to look at it or change it since he'd written it all those years ago, mostly because his fate was already sealed and their wasn't much wiggle room for enjoying a tour at the Museum of Forbidden Technology or doing anything other than his job as the Voice of Night Vale.

But Carlos was a scientist. Carlos was free to do whatever he pleased in his life, aside from municipally banned activities of course. Carlos was an Outsider and therefore not bound to the collective fates of the citizens. Carlos could choose his own path, write his own story. And Cecil could definitely help with some of that.

Some of them would definitely be tricky, no doubt about it. After all, he didn't really know who this "Stephen Hawking" was (some sort of bird king? A talking bird? A...Stephen? Maybe) or really what NASA really was (Nay-Say? Was he not supposed to know it existed? Probably), but those were minor setbacks. He could ask Old Woman Josie or Google the terms. Old Woman Josie would probably be the best person to consult, Google only gave him pictures of an oddly seductive cactus last time he tried to look up one of Carlos' science words.

However, there were a few things on the list Cecil knew of, like "Go parasailing" or "Reenact the Battle of the Five Armies." There was also "Write a book" and, if he pulled the right strings, Cecil knew he could get at least a couple hundred pages published. Leann Hart owed him a favor and the City Council would be more than thrilled to take away certain thoughts he'd been having about clouds. Maybe he could get Carlos a pen, a really nice pen, and he could use that to write his book! Yeah, he could do that. This could work!

His eyes kept scanning the list, committing it to near-but-not-quite photographic memory, before slipping it back into the notebook it'd been tucked away in. He could make the list happen, he just knew it. There were four he could do rather easily, the fifth being  _dreadful_ to set up, the sixth being a bit more tricky, and the seventh definitely earning him an unpleasant visit to the SSP. A small price to pay for Carlos' happiness.

After all, it was almost the one year anniversary of Carlos' return from the Desert Otherworld.


	2. 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful, glorious, Radon Canyon...

Cecil had literally been bouncing up and down in anticipation for the whole car ride which, all things considered, was a bit of a problem considering he was the one driving. Carlos braced himself against his seat, gripping the cushion for all it was worth, and tried to ignore Cecil's horrendous driving. Normally, the radio host was a great driver and outside of Night Vale, could have easily obtained a pursuit license. But when Cecil's emotions were running high, either positive or negative, his skills seemed to fly out the window faster than the time it took him to go 0 to 70mph. It didn't help that Carlos had been forced to wear a blindfold once Cecil picked him up from the lab, or that Cecil was deliberately trying to throw off his sense of direction by taking imaginary backroads and alleyways that only existed on Tuesdays, cancelled days, and certain Jewish holidays (and not even the big ones at that).

"Cecil," he managed through clenched teeth and the mounting need to remove the rest of his lunch through his trachea. "Are we there yet? I love you, but I don't know how much more of this I can take..."

"It's a surprise!" was Cecil's all too cheerful response. Carlos bit back a groan, knowing that Cecil would take it personally and the thought of having a very unhappy Cecil driving was worse than dealing with the current reality's more-excited-than-a-puppy Cecil. So Carlos pushed his head back into the headrest and rode out the worst of his nausea. Literally.

Not soon enough, the car came to a screeching halt. Miraculously, or because Night Vale's physics were broken, the seatbelt did not dig into Carlos' chest nor did the stop leave him winded. He heard the soft click of Cecil undoing his seatbelt, the hiss of the car door opening, the startled yelp and subsequent thump of his boyfriend accidentally tripping himself with said seatbelt, the muffled crunch of shoes on gravel, and the opening of his car door. He felt Cecil put a hand on his shoulder as the other reached over to undo his own seatbelt.

Silently, Carlos exited the car, only guided by the feeling of Cecil's hand on his shoulder and the sound of their feet walking across pebbles and sand. Suddenly, Cecil stopped them. Moving behind Carlos, he rested his chin on the other's shoulder. "I have a feeling you'll enjoy this," Cecil whispered as he carefully tugged the blindfold free of Carlos' head. The sunlight blinded the scientist for a good minute and a half, but once his sight returned, he couldn't help but gasp.

They were standing over Radon Canyon as the sun set, casting the sky in all of the different sky hues Night Vale had to offer. Turquoise. Taupe. Turquoise-Taupe. Azalea. Chartreuse. Coal Dust. Imaginary Olive. Crimson. White. Void. Purple. Colors he didn't know the names of. They were all there with the slowly setting sun. Come to think of it, the sun was setting a little  _too_  slowly, but Carlos quickly dismissed the thought. This, whatever Night Vale had to offer, was beautiful.

"Cecil..." he muttered, unable to take his eyes away from the sight. "Cecil, this is...amazing." He somehow managed to sputter out a few more comments of scientific and aesthetic-related nature while Cecil focused on his face. On the awe he was privy to. On the beauty and joy he found in Carlos.

"I know you've been wanting to come up here for a while," Cecil said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he did so. "And I didn't have a good chance to take you before, what with the show and all starting exactly after sunset." Carlos gave him an incredulous look.

"You have to do your show!" he squeaked (although he'd never admit to squeaking. Cecil, on the other hand, found that particular tone of voice adorable and endearing). "Station Management is going to tear you to shred, you know that! Why did you take me out here, you have to do the show!" Carlos gestured emphatically to the car, all but shoving Cecil in the vehicle's direction.

"Carlos!" Cecil laughed, resisting his boyfriend's attempts to leave. "It's fine, I worked something out at the station. The schedule is a little more flexible when the sun is setting this slowly and besides, it's not like a lot happens when my show isn't on. We can cut into the next segment if need be." It wasn't a complete lie, they'd had to cut into whatever was scheduled next on some occasions, mostly when something existence-altering and universe-shattering happened in the heart of their fair town. But Station Management wasn't going to be very pleased to see him walk in late. There would definitely be a meeting later, but Cecil found himself not caring very much. In fact, he felt a tad bit giddy about disobeying Station Management like that. So what if he was ten (or a close approximation to) minutes late for the show? This is what they had Interns for! And he'd been late before, the penalty wasn't too bad and he had worked  _something_  out in advance for the tardiness. He'd only be in the Dark Box for a few hours. No more than four, tops. Completely doable.

The scientist seemed to relax at his reassurances, returning to Cecil's side to see the sun continue its lazy descent into the horizon. He leaned against Cecil's side, easily resting his head on the other man's shoulder (albeit slightly awkwardly since he was a couple inches taller), and let himself enjoy the sunset. As the Void became larger and the glow of Radon Canyon became visible, the two men returned to the car, hand in hand. The ride back into town from the definitely-not-a-mountain plateau was a comfortable silence, a silence describing what no words could. As the car rolled slowly into town, Cecil couldn't help but smile.

~~23\. Observe Radon Canyon (and the Sky...What Is It Made Of???) During a Lazy Sunset. There will be something something science-y stuff something blah beautiful.~~


	3. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something with the ocean, that's for sure.

Carlos couldn't help but notice that Cecil was a little off the next day. Although he'd emphatically assured the scientist that Station Management hadn't dislocated anything particularly important, Carlos couldn't ignore the way he hugged his left arm closer to his body than normal or that he'd wince when he thought Carlos wasn't looking. Still, there wasn't a whole lot he could do if his boyfriend was going to be secretive about it and whatever injuries he had didn't appear to be serious or impede upon him. So he decided to let it go as Cecil drove him to the Night Vale Waterfront and Recreation Area.

"Cecil," he called as he stepped out of the car. "What are we doing exactly? Not that I mind breaking a few blue laws, but aren't the Sheriff's Secret Police going to detain us or do something horrifically worse?" Despite his trepidation, Carlos caught up with his boyfriend's strides towards the pier. It was earlier in the day, just a little past noon thirty o'clock (if the clock in the lab was anything to go by) and the sun was still surprisingly high in the sky. Cecil had picked him up for a picnic lunch date at an undisclosed location. Now that the location was disclosed, Carlos really wasn't sure of what to think anymore. The radio host was usually a stickler for following Night Vale's laws, no matter how ridiculous, to the letter. To see his boyfriend not once, but twice, push the boundaries of his position was two parts frightening and three parts absurdly  _hot._  And thoughtful. Really, really thoughtful.

Spreading out a thick, tattered blanket and concealing a wince, Cecil chuckled. "No, the SSP know better than to interrupt a completely legal date. I filled out the paperwork earlier this morning. They won't be bothering us aside from the usual. You know, listening to our thoughts, watching our every move, et cetera." He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, pushing down the dread and future boredom of repaying the Sheriff for his troubles. He hated surveillance more than anything and having to do it right next to the  _Dog Park_  right after the show was not appealing. Maybe he could get his hands on some of the SSP's Vicodin before he started, that'd make those twinges of pain a lot more bearable.

Realizing that he'd started to zone out, Cecil quickly opened the cooler he'd brought out and began unpacking their food. As Carlos' chewing filled the air, Cecil reached into his satchel and withdrew some alphabet stamps, ink, some paper, a glass bottle, and a cork. At Carlos' questioning expression, he quickly explained.

"A few days ago, Dianne Crayton walked by here. She took one of those disappearing side streets, believing it to be the one she normally walked on to return home, and wound up here instead. Before she left, she found some rather...interesting things in the sand." Carlos nodded for him to continue, chewing becoming marginally softer. "She found seashells. Now I know you were telling me about those strange 'foes-cells' and 'Pan-ghee-ay,' but these seashells were wet, drenched in salt water and smelling of the sea. I think they came from the ocean, directly from the ocean." Embarrassed, he looked away from the scientist, blushing furiously. "Then again, I'm not the most knowledgeable person in Night Vale so someone could've simply cried on them and threw them away in the sand wastes..."

"No, no, Cecil," Carlos cooed, reaching over to grasp the other man's shoulder, making sure it was the less problematic one before firmly grasping it. "Your hypothesis is sound. Something happens, you develop a hypothesis, and then you test it. It's the Scientific Method." Glancing down, he grabbed the glass bottle, observing its contours in the sunlight. "So how were you thinking of testing it?"

"Well, actually, you're going to test it," Cecil replied with a smile. "I read something about bottles being thrown into the ocean, each one containing a note. Eventually, they wind up somewhere, perhaps even here. And maybe, if we toss something over the pier, it will find an ocean even if we can't?" Carlos was about to object to that statement, but quickly realized that he really didn't know what direction the nearest coast was in...or if coasts even existed at all.

"So, you took me out here just so we could write a message in a bottle and then throw it out in the sand wastes in an attempt to let it find water?" Carlos asked. A tad bit fearfully, Cecil nodded. Had he read the list wrong? Did he not understand the concept of "send a message in a bottle?" Did he mess up?

All the questions and insecurities left his mind as Carlos smiled and reached for the stamps. "Then we're writing this together," he stated, the notion not even up for debate.

In the end, their lunch hour ran about an hour too long. Carlos' experiment escaped into the Void before he could finish timing its reactions to the strange substance he'd found in Cecil's bedside lamp. Cecil had to chant for Station Management's forgiveness and bribe them with pine-scented orange mochi to make it back to his studio relatively unscathed. As soon as he sat down, he crossed another item off his list and promptly collapsed in a dead faint. You know, the normal tardiness procedure.

~~4\. Send a Message in a Bottle (make it count!!!)~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I'll be updating this periodically, hopefully with 2 chapters per day. SS, I am so so sorry of how long this is taking. I will have it done by Friday night, I promise!!! X3


	4. 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on the more expensive side of things, it's definitely worth every penny to see that bashful smile on Carlos' face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that took so long!! So I kinda was an idiot and erased the original Bucket List items I was originally gonna do and I can only recall one of the not-completely-solid ones, so you get this instead. X3 I'm gonna try to finish this as soon as possible because it's super duper late and yeah, all of the guilt...

"Cecil, are you sure you're ok?"

This had to be the tenth time Carlos had asked him all night and, as much as he adored the concern, it was beginning to get a little annoying. He'd lived on his own for what, twenty-something years? Maybe more? He'd know if something was really, really wrong with him. After all, you can't survive in Night Vale without a strong sense of denial, a high pain tolerance, and the ability to ignore everything going on around you.

"Carlos, I'm  _fine,_ " Cecil reassured once again, rolling his eyes as he slouched further into the couch cushions. He shifted a bit to ease the discomfort in his arm, head resting in Carlos' lap as they attempted to watch the TV. To be honest, there really wasn't anything good on. One could only watch a documentary about sharks in tornados  _so many times_ before the appeal began to wear off. In fact, the spectacle kind of reminded Cecil of that strange show Carlos showed him once, with a sea sponge with a particularly grating voice and some sort of squid-thingy who played...

_That's what he forgot!_

Cecil jolted upright, blinking rapidly as dots of light swarmed his vision. He gripped the armrest to steady himself before darting to the door, yanking it open, and jogging to his car. He heard Carlos shouting behind him, worry lacing his smooth tenor, as Cecil ignored him. Quickly picking the lock (he'd forgotten his keys in the apartment but hey, he had been a scout at one point in time), he scrambled over the seat cushions and grabbed a black box. Smiling to himself, he closed the door and sauntered past Carlos without a word. Carlos, to his credit, simply closed the door after his eccentric boyfriend, ran a hand through his hair, and slumped into the closest seat.

"Geez Cecil," he breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Give me some warning next time. Or tell me you're fine next time. You nearly gave me a heart attack..."

"Sorry!" the radio host exclaimed, conscientious enough now to look some combination of guilty and giddy. "I just forgot something in the car and I just  _had_ to get it as soon as possible or else it would mess up the plans I made..." That got Carlos' attention.

"Plans?" he asked, slightly nervous at what that could imply. "Cecil, are you sure that's the best idea? I mean, we're both going to be pretty busy with what the Erikas, who are not real, are planning to do to StrexCorp in a few days. We're both going to be pulling crazy shifts and I don't really see a dinner date fitting into the equation..."

He was doing it again, that weird work thing. Ever since Carlos returned from the Other Desert World, he'd been off. While everyone knew it had something to do with prolonged exposure to the Smiling God, the "full productive potential" thing still came out now and again. And while Carlos was definitely right with this particular event, the wording definitely threw Cecil off.

"Carlos," he said quietly, looking at the floor. "You're doing it again." That simple phrase worked wonders.

"I'm sorry," Carlos apologized, his hand flying to scratch the back of his head. Nervous tick. Adorable. "It slips out sometimes...has it been getting better?"

"Much." And just like that, it was back to giddy nonsense. "But work very much aside, I...have a little something for you." Cecil held up the black box he'd retrieved. Without waiting for an answer, he all but shoved the box into Carlos' lap and watched with anticipation at the events about to unfold.

"Cecil, what is this all about?" asked Carlos, uncertainty in his voice. "First the sunset, then the picnic lunch, now this? Is everything ok?"

"Yes, everything is as fine as it could be," he replied, practically vibrating with impatience. Well, "practically" was an understatement. Cecil was most definitely vibrating with impatience. "Oooooooopen iiiiiiiiitttttttt!!!" he whined.

With a sigh, Carlos undid the metal latches holding the box closed. Carefully, he opened the box and let out a small gasp. Lowering the lid slightly, Carlos met Cecil's eyes. "How did you get this?"

"Old Woman Josie said it was just lying around after the Erikas, all of whom do not exist and only tell lies, failed to start up a successful Klezmer band. Something about their lead not being able to actually sing and their percussionist always speeding up the tempo and changing the time signature," Cecil explained with a wave of his hand. "Nobody was using it and I guess she's been looking for a buyer for a while now."

Carlos' fingertips brushed the black wood within the box. It was perfectly sculpted, perfectly made. It would sound great and, wow, there was even a box of reeds in the side compartment.

"How did you know?" he asked, eyeing the five pieces of wood and metal. "I don't remember ever telling you about my musical exploits. It's been so long since I've picked one of these up..."

"Mm, you mentioned it in passing back when we moved into the apartment," Cecil replied. It wasn't a complete lie, Carlos had mentioned something about music. He'd just never specifically stated that he'd been a clarinetist for over a decade, and even that was a fact Cecil was hazy on. The side-note next to that particular Bucket List didn't reveal much aside from the fact Carlos had once studied the instrument and that he'd liked it enough to consider pursuing it again.

"This must have been a fortune," Carlos muttered as he traced over the gold lettering of the manufacturer. "This is a really well-made instrument. Please tell me you didn't sell your soul for this." Because in Night Vale, that would totally happen.

"The nonexistent Erikas had no need for my soul," he answered. "Or, at least, whatever soul inhabits my body at the present. No, it really wasn't that much." Another half-truth. It cost Cecil a couple hundred dollars and a favor for each Erika. Had it been Old Woman Josie who'd actually, legally owned the instruments, the trade would've been a lot cheaper. Vaguely, he wondered what the Erikas would even have him do. Hopefully, a few bed time stories would do. Apparently, even divine beings weren't completely immune to the soothing baritone that was the Voice.

While Carlos still felt a little uncomfortable with the apparent showering of gifts lately, he couldn't stop himself from assembling the instrument, picking out a reed, and playing a note or two on the clarinet. Surprisingly enough, the fingerings came back easily enough and the scales sounded halfway decent. Definitely not up to par from where he'd previously been before focusing entirely on science, but better than most intermediate players sounded.

As the notes drifted through their apartment, Cecil laid down on the couch and lazily watched Carlos' fingers dance among the metal-lined holes of the instrument. As scales turned to melodies, Cecil drifted off to sleep. After all, he'd returned from the Dog Park shift not too long ago. But Carlos didn't have to know that yet and not now. He'd start fretting and stop playing. No, Carlos could keep playing. Carlos should keep playing. He was  _amazing._

With a smile in his eyes, Carlos watched as Cecil's body grew lax and soft snores joined the slightly off tempo notes. Once he was sure Cecil was completely asleep, he carefully set down the instrument and walked over to his boyfriend. His hand brushed over the other man's head, stroking the wispy hair off the sleeping man's forehead. As gently as he could, Carlos slipped his hands under his boyfriend's body and lifted him bridal-style off the couch. Grunting slightly, he managed to carry Cecil into their bedroom and carefully place him on the bed. Carlos leaned over, kissed his boyfriend's forehead, and left him to his sleep.

...Which was a little odd. Cecil was the night owl, so why'd he fall asleep before 10pm rolled around? Carlos would investigate later, observe Cecil during their time together. He knew the radio host was pushing himself to do  _something_ , but he hadn't yet caught onto a pattern. Maybe tomorrow would bring in some more conclusive data to the mystery. But for now, he'd leave it be. After all, Cecil's plans usually erred on the side of fun and who was he to stop his boyfriend from being happy as long as he was healthy?

So he let the thoughts leave his mind for the rest of the night, allowing himself to become a conduit for the music once more.

~~17\. Pick Up Clarinet Again (will I still be able to play???)~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk why, but I like musical!Carlos. I really do.


	5. 18 - Part A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil reveals his plans. Carlos freaks out. Sarah Sultan is a really good singer. And that awful Steve Carlsberg plays some great trumpet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I'm doing anymore. This is crack. Complete, utter crack.

Everything needed to fulfill this particular item took more planning than anyone had time for. That is, if the one arranging it wasn't the local radio celebrity who could (somewhat morally) sway others' priorities with a bit of sweet talk and offerings (favors and ritual sacrifices). Teddy Williams was in, seeing as the entertainment for the bowlers would be free and would definitely bring in something of a crowd. Sarah Sultan owed Cecil a favor from that one time she attempted to hop across the street and was snatched up by a particularly mean white crane. For the record, yes, he still had scars from that. John Peters (you know, the farmer) simply wanted to try out some Klezmer and was in it for fun. And...ugh,  _Steve Carlsberg_ was the only one in town who owned a trumpet and could actually play it  _semi-decently._ Semi.  **Semi.** He was by no means  _good,_ he was _passable_.

And Cecil refused to let himself be indebted to the man for helping with a fairly simple item on the Bucket List.

All Cecil had to do was perform the bloodstone ritual as all the musicians, instrumentalists plus one singer, played their piece. Possibly the best thing about live music in Night Vale was the lack of sheet music. Performers could link up their consciences together (for lack of a better term) and share a melody, so everyone could play together without prior knowledge of the piece or the necessary sheet music to play it. And, despite Cecil's generally restricted knowledge, he knew Steve Carlsberg (ugh) surprisingly would be able to guide Carlos through what to play, even though the scientist was going to be on another part.

Thankfully, everyone was around on the one night Cecil didn't work or, in that case, have an overload of things to do. With the Erikas' plans coming to fruition in a mere two days, Station Management didn't want to risk something serious befalling the Voice, not for something this momentous and possibly universe-shattering. So around their allotted time, Cecil all but grabbed Carlos, shoved the clarinet into his hands, and rushed over to the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex about twenty minutes before their scheduled time.

"Cecil, what are you doing?!" Carlos exclaimed, arms unsure of whether to clutch the clarinet or his seat as Cecil sped miles above the speed limit. He compromised by holding the clarinet case between his knees and gripping the cushion with whatever finger strength he possessed. Cecil, unbothered by the extreme speeds and racing lights, smiled as he came to a screeching halt in a miraculously empty parking spot.

"So remember those plans I mentioned the other night?" he asked as innocently as he could, reaching behind his seat to grab his satchel from the back. The familiar weight of his personal bloodstones felt nice. He hadn't actually used them a while, not before Carlos'...journey into the Other Desert World. "Well," he continued before Carlos could sputter out another question, "I managed to pull some strings with some other musicians around Night Vale, along with permission from Teddy Williams, and long story short: you have a concert tonight!"

" _What?_ " the scientist screeched as Cecil dragged him towards the bowling alley. "What in the world are you thinking?! I've literally played this instrument for a collective two hours since you got it for me! I'm not ready for a concert, let alone a surprise one!" Spinning around, Cecil gripped Carlos by the shoulders.

"Carlos," he stated, staring right into Carlos' eyes. "Everything will be  _fine._  After all, isn't a scientist always fine?"

"A scientist is  _usually_ fine," Carlos corrected. "And not like this! Cecil, Science and music are two completely different things! I'm a scientist, not a musician!"

"Carlos, I love you and I love your big brain, but tonight... _stop thinking._ " They stared in silence for a few seconds in front of the doors. Suddenly, one of those doors opened, revealing a slightly anxious Teddy Williams.

"Hey, Cecil...you're all still performing tonight, right?" he asked, gripping the doorframe as he spoke. "There's a lot of people here..."

"Teddy, not helping," Cecil groaned as Carlos buried his face in his hands.

"Oh! Sorry!" With that, Teddy ducked back inside the establishment.

Cecil sighed. "Carlos...you don't have to if you really don't want to. I'm sorry, I just...I don't know what I was thinking. Here, I'll go perform with everyone, we'll improvise something. I've done a few things with them before-" Carlos pressed a finger to his lips.

"I'll do it," he said with a smile. "But next time, please tell me first so I don't nearly have an anxiety attack in a parking lot. Just a little warning would be great."

"Oh, of course!" Cecil exclaimed, nodding furiously as he did so. Gripping the strap of his satchel, he leaned into the door and held it open. "After you, my perfect, talented Carlos."

Carlos blushed as he walked through the doorway. "Stooooooop," he groaned, trying to hide his face with his arms. "Wait a minute...Cecil, how am I going to play without any music and without practicing and..." he trailed off, nearly sending himself into another panic attack. "Cecil...I'm not playing alone, right?"

"Nope!"

That voice was decidedly not Cecil's.

Suddenly, there was an arm draped around his shoulder. Its owner wore an excited, enthusiastic smile, unaware of (or choosing to ignore) the glare Cecil was sending his way. Carlos' eyes darted between Cecil, barely containing his hatred, and Steve Carlsberg, who looked downright cheerful and high on pre-show adrenaline. The silence between the three stretched on for a few uncomfortable seconds. Steve had enough sense to remove his arm from across Carlos' shoulders, patting him on the back in good spirits instead. That seemed to allow Cecil's jaw to unclench.

"Yes," Cecil finally replied, carefully enunciating every syllable that slipped past his lips. "Steve Carlsberg...is  _correct._ " He looked physically pained to even utter those words. "John Peters-"

"You know, the farmer?" Steve interrupted happily. Cecil cleared his throat with a grimace and continued.

"Sarah Sultan and... _Steve_  volunteered to play with you tonight," he explained.

"Not you?" Carlos asked. It wasn't like his boyfriend to so willingly give up a spotlight like this, especially to Steve of all people. Nevertheless, Cecil shook his head.

"I'll be providing some, oh, how do I phrase this?" he asked to nobody, waving his free hand around as if it could create the answer out of thin air.

"Moral support?" a feminine voice offered. Glancing at a nearby table, Cecil smiled.

"That's it! I'm here for moral support. I'll be just behind the curtain and an arm's reach away," he said before flinching slightly. "Ah, I am so sorry Sarah, and here I am trying to be more inclusive of the zero-limbed beings in Night Vale. Stupid Cecil." Carlos frowned. He hated it whenever Cecil belittled himself in the third person. Before he could point it out, Sarah spoke.

"Oh Cecil, it's okay, really!" she said. "It's an old Night Vale expression, it's hard to break out of those. And you didn't mean anything by it, just comforting your boyfriend is all. Now, if you had said it to  _me..._ well, let's just say you'd have one less rib that  _wasn't_ broken."

"Understood," he replied, unconsciously rubbing his still sore arm. It wasn't getting much better, he should probably get it checked.

After the concert. And the rest of the night. And tomorrow. And definitely after the Erikas' (who were not real and didn't exist) announcement. It wasn't a big deal, really.

"Hey, Cecil?" Teddy Williams shouted from across the complex. "You ready?"

"Just a minute!" he yelled back, shouldering the satchel more securely. "Ok, I need to go...you know, performance prep and all that. Sarah, will you be ready in the next couple of minutes? Steve, I don't really care if you're ready or not."

"Yes, I'll be all set," she replied. Carlos barely perceived the slight movement Sarah was making but, for lack of a better descriptor, it looked like she was trying to wave Cecil away. "Get going or we're gonna be late!" Cecil's eyes widened and he set off for the back room.

"Carlos, you'll be perfect!" he called over his shoulder. "Good luck, Sarah! You'll be lovely! Steve, I hope you break a leg! Or a rib! Maybe even your spine! Just break something!"

"He doesn't mean that," Carlos mumbled to the man next to him.

"No, I'm pretty sure he does," Steve sighed, playing with the valves of the trumpet Carlos had just realized was in his hand. "But hey, I get it." He shrugged. "And besides, I still consider him my best friend. In his own way, he makes sure we're alright." The "we" needed no further explanation.

"That's Cecil for you," Carlos smirked, laying his case on a table. He began assembling his instrument. "Heart on his sleeves and mostly in the right place."

"Especially for you. He needed someone to love," Steve explained. "He was so...withdrawn before, if you can believe it. Not his personality, but just the way he lived. Only went out if he needed to, never really saw anyone. Heck, Old Woman Josie could only convince him to come out if it was for bowling. But now, he's just so happy and even when you were gone, he put in the effort to stay connected. We're a community, it's what we're here for and, in our own weird way, we paid him back for whatever he's done." Steve slipped his mouthpiece into the trumpet and played a quick scale. "And you know," he continued, adjusting the tuning slide, "I'm really happy I got to do something for him too."

"What do you mean?" Carlos asked as Sarah Sultan sang a few arpeggios.

"He asked me about the stars and the lines a few nights ago," Steve replied. "He was wondering if stars had names and if so, which ones. Didn't exactly tell me why, but he just wanted one without a name." He shrugged. "Personally, I've given them all names, but nothing's official. I told him about a nice blue dwarf star next to, what I call, Devi the Mid-Sized Kinda-Like-The-Sun star. My guess is he's going to 'adopt' it, but like I said, I don't know why. Anyways, that's what the lines pointed to. Oh, and the lines also wrote out something about the Eri-"

Carlos had stopped listening at that point in time. Adopt a star? What was Cecil going to do with a star? Even more shocking, adopting a star wasn't illegal? And why was a list the first thing that popped into his head at the mention of adopting a star? Better yet, why couldn't he remember the List? The List felt important! He should remember something like that, right?

"-and that's all I know, but it could be a long shot," Steve concluded, brandishing his now in-tune trumpet. "I trust the not-real Erikas enough with that."

"Agreed," Sarah added. "Whatever announcement They-Who-Must-Not-Exist have concerning StrexCorp will be a good one, I know it."

Before Carlos could actually catch up on the conversation, Teddy Williams approached them. "Alright, Cecil's good and ready for you to begin. the crowd's ready too." He turned to Carlos. "They've been wanting some sort of public event with you for a while. After all, it's not everyday an Outsider willingly returns to our town once they've left. Now come on, we're running a bit behind as it is."

_Behind for what?_

Carlos didn't voice the question, instead following Steve and Sarah (the former carrying the latter on his shoulder) past swarms of citizens and onto a makeshift stage. It was back in the Arcade area of the building, nestled between what looked like a demon Pac-Man machine and a Claw Machine filled with plush cockroaches, each with some sort of message on their back. John Peters (you know, the farmer?) was onstage already, making some final adjustments to his snare drum. Steve placed Sarah on the high stool and adjusted the mic for her.

"Carlos, your setup is there," Teddy said, pointing to a chair to the left of Sarah. Steve was on her right. There was no sign of Cecil.

Slowly, the scientist made his way across the stage, eyes taking in the crowd that he could see. He could make out Leann Hart and Diane Crayton together near the stage. Larry Leroy was laughing at something one of his fellow scientists was saying. Up in front was Old Woman Josie. It looked like she was trying to find someone onstage, but maybe it was just the light that made her squint. In the very back of the room, Carlos could make out a smattering of Hooded Figures and Erikas and he immediately dropped his gaze back to his shoes. So from his twenty-second glance at the audience, he could quickly assume that  _everybody in Night Vale had shown up._

Great, he was screwed.

"Carlos?" The man's head automatically reacted to the sound. His eyes met Steve's as the other man put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be fine. Besides, we'll be talking with you the whole time, no need to worry."

"Talking? No, that's impossible," Carlos stated before he could stop himself. Yeah, anything was possible in Night Vale, but he was pretty sure you couldn't talk to someone with a reed instrument in your mouth.

"Ok, not 'talk,' per say," Steve corrected. "More like...telepathically communicate. Cecil's in charge of that."

"What exactly do you mean by 'in charge?'" he asked. He didn't really like where this was going.

"It's a simple ritual," Sarah replied, able to hear the conversation from her perch. "And one that he is particularly gifted at, probably due to being the Voice of Night Vale and all. He could probably do it in his sleep, it's that simple for him."

Bloodstone ritual. It was a bloodstone ritual and Cecil was  _exhausted._

"How much energy does it take from the host?" He nervously played with the buttons on his instrument. "Like, on a scale of 'dead faint' to 'I can't stop yawning,' where does it fall?"

"Hmm, something around 'falling asleep with the TV on' to 'stumbling in a sleepy haze before passing out on the couch.' Nothing particularly faint-inducing," she said. "Don't worry Carlos, you'll get him back in one piece."

"I'm not worried about that, I'm worried that the one piece won't be  _functional_ when this is over."

Before anyone could respond, Teddy Williams walked across the stage, wireless mic in hand.

"Hello everybody!" he greeted with a smile. "As you all know, we've had our resident scientist back for a year today." Oh yeah, it was a year. Huh. "And that calls for a bit of celebration. In addition to the weekly bowling deal, you are also privy to a small performance. This will not be happening again, unless a certain someone behind the curtain pulls some strings again."

_"He's embarrassing me."_

Carlos looked around. That was definitely Cecil's voice. But from the blank looks the others expressed, nobody else had heard it. Maybe he imagined it.

_"Oh Carlos, that's right! You've never done this before!"_

Ok, nope, that most definitely wasn't his imagination. Besides, his imagination usually sounded like a mix of Madame Curie and Maya Angelou.

_"I'll gush about how adorable that is later even though i've never heard of either of them. Anyways, just listen for...ugh, **Steve.** If memory serves correct, he'll be thinking in the same key as you. Take cues from John Peters (you know, the farmer?) in terms of the beat. But for the record, think of a waltz. Go with waltz. Sarah's on vocals, so follow her lead. You'll know what she wants to do. I'm going to link you up with everyone else. This will only be for a couple minutes. Some precautionary tips: don't let your mind wander too much because these three will be able to hear your thoughts. And of course,  **don't think.**  You're going to be fantastic."_

He hadn't even noticed when Teddy Williams introduced them, too busy listening to Cecil's instructions. He began to relax, trying to clear his mind as he felt Cecil's conscience ebb away from his.

_"I need to focus, it's a little tricky when more than three people link up and when those people do not include the host, but everything will be fine. Good luck, Carlos."_

Everyone was clapping.

Sarah took a mental breath, Steve and Carlos doing the same.

John Peters (you know, the farmer?) brushed the snare.

And the worries went away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *beep*
> 
> Please flip to Side B...as soon as it becomes available.


	6. 18 - Part B - 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The performance commences and Cecil's got another trick up his sleeve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *beep* Everything that follows is not canon.
> 
> Seriously, it's not. That's why you're reading.

The song sounded familiar and, halfway through the first couple of notes, Carlos knew why. This was a Weather forecast, one that they'd had before. Somewhere in the back of his science-filled brain, he'd managed to listen to Cecil's broadcast while stumbling over his fellow scientists trying to take readings of the sandstorm that passed through town so many years ago. While the phrases "Kill your double," and "Cute Cat Video" were consciously remembered, the forecast was not. In fact, he had no clue how he even remembered the forecast at all.

...No, that was a lie. He'd been a bit worried about that strange portal Cecil had entered, leaving his double to continue the broadcast. Ugh, even thinking about Cecil's double left him deeply disturbed, especially with what happened during his return from the Other Desert World. Nope, not thinking about that now, not while there was a concert to do.

Oh wait.

Thankfully, his fingers had been moving of their own accord, following Steve Carlsberg's instructions perfectly. It was nice to know he could still play like this, play without thinking. Cecil said he thought too much and on some things (not all, but some), he was right. This was one of those times. There was an imaginary guitar playing with them as John Peters (you know, this is getting old...) expertly played his snare and symbol. Possibly, there was an Erika on stage with them playing what sounded like an accordion, but for legal reasons, could not be acknowledged or partake in their shared thoughts. Thinking of which, Carlos was basically transmitting his speculations into everyone's minds and that was a tad bit embarrassing.

 _"Happens to the best of us,"_ John Peters supplied, lightly tapping on the symbol.

 _"You'll get used to it eventually,"_ Steve added, tapping on the valves of his trumpet. He, unlike Carlos, had yet to play. Although, he still managed to deliver the correct notation to Carlos. Turns out, Steve could literally memorize a bit of score, so it made things easier on Carlos. Not to mention he'd still supply which notes came next along with their proper citation.

 _"Are you ready?"_ Sarah Sultan's voice fluttered through his mind. Blinking in confusion, he cast a glance at the singing stone perched upon the stool. Ready for what?

 _"Our duet!"_  declared Steve emphatically. His mouthpiece rested on his lower lip as he gave Carlos a glance out of the corner of his eye.  _"You're a third lower than me, so remember that. Nothing crazy, no different note lengths or anything. Oh, by the way, your solo comes up first."_

His  ** _what?!_**

_"Retardando aaaaaaaaaaaaand, ok, you're up Carlos."_

And he was playing. He was honest-to-goodness playing the clarinet for the first time in over a decade in front of an entire town who knew him as nothing more that the Heroic Scientist. Ok, they knew him as Carlos but still. He didn't know a whole lot of people in town so he was basically playing for strangers, strangers that would remember him and see him every day and knew if he slipped up and squeaked or...

 _"Carlos, relax..."_ Cecil piped up, still in some undisclosed location (probably behind the curtain) and sounding considerably softer than he had before.  _"You're halfway through the duet already. It's perfect...almost."_ Carlos nearly snorted. Without a doubt, that last word was meant for their trumpet player. He had to hand it to Steve, the man didn't let his annoyance or hurt show. Professionalism was something to respect.

And all too soon, Sarah was singing her last note and John Peters was doing a fancy little drumroll and the room was cheering and he could hear Old Woman Josie cheering on an Erika. He wasn't completely there when Steve hooked an arm under his and prompted him to stand. Whatever Teddy Williams was saying was obviously praise towards the performers, but it wasn't registering for Carlos. He didn't mess up. He got through a song. He managed to perform and reclaim his musician status and, if half-remembered memories served correct, he really did sound good. Definitely not the best of the best, but enough to pass for more than a novice and that was more than enough to ask for because, after all, he was intermediate-good when he stopped. Why did he stop to begin with? The post-performance bliss was addicting and he loved music and, oh masters of us all, he  _performed_ _again._

"Carlos!" a voice shouted to the right. Before he knew what was happening, he had a body full of happy Cecil in his arms. Steve had enough foresight to grab his clarinet and save it from being smushed between Cecil and himself. As soon as Cecil pulled away (which was a good thirty seconds later), Steve immediately returned the instrument and left to join his wife and daughter in the arcade.

"I can't...I mean..." Carlos stuttered. He honestly had no clue of what to say. Part of him was still a little peeved at the surprise concert, but a larger part of him was coming off the concert high and he couldn't feel anything aside from bliss, pride, and the need to do it all again, performance anxiety be damned.

"You were perfect!" Cecil exclaimed happily. "That was the best forecast replication I've ever heard! It's a hard thing to do, to get everything juuuuuust right and like the way we heard it the first time, but you were amazing and so talented! Ah, it was like we were experiencing another sandstorm!" His eyes narrowed. "But no doubles allowed. Not that  _monster._ " In an instant, he was back to being a bright-eyed, love-struck puppy.

"Thank you," Carlos finally said, bringing Cecil in for another hug. The radio host gladly complied, leaning into his boyfriend's touch with a sigh of content and exhaustion. He was tired, beyond tired, but he had to stay awake for a bit longer. There was something else...but...

His head snapped up, narrowly avoiding collision with Carlos' nose. "Carlos!" he exclaimed again, grabbing the scientist's wrist and making a mad dash to the doors. "I'm so sorry, I almost forgot! Foolish Cecil! I hope we can get out before the omnipresent Void washes them out!"

Carlos was unceremoniously led out of the doors of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex with another slew of questions bouncing around in his mind and rolling off of his tongue. "What do you mean?" he shouted over the crowds of people and, soon enough, to the night sky. "Cecil, what's going on? Are you ok? Why are we outside? Are you absolutely sure you should be walking around, let alone  _running?"_ But Cecil merely led him through the cool air, mumbling about time and nearly missed opportunities and maybe a tiny bit of existential philosophy.

They only made it a few more feet before Carlos planted his feet on the ground and yanked his wrist back, sending Cecil sprawling into his chest with a small "Oof!" He stared down at the other man, both taking a few seconds to catch their breath.

"Are you ok?" Carlos repeated, exhaling harshly as his lungs figured out how to work again. Cecil stared up at him with wide, bloodshot eyes. Even in the shadows of near-but-not-quite darkness, Carlos could see how his form slouched, how his body was being strained from whatever mission he'd set out to do for the past week. By now, Carlos had a hypothesis, though he had to cross-check a specific piece of paper inside of a notebook, waiting for the day every item was crossed off and accounted for.

Cecil swallowed before nodding. "I...um...I didn't want you to miss this," he stated. With his hand still around Carlos' wrist, he walked towards their parked car. "As you know, it's pretty tricky in June to see anything but the Void or the Lights Above the Arby's," Cecil explained, leaning against the trunk of the car. "According to the charts near the calendar, we only have a few more minutes of visible stars before the Void consumes them from our sight." Cecil's eyes strayed from Carlos', directing attention to the handful of stars above them. "I wanted to do something - well, many somethings - special for our anniversary and, well, this felt right." Releasing Carlos' wrist, he pointed at a small, blue-tinted star. "You see that star? That tiny one to the right of the star that looks too big?"

"Yeah," Carlos mumbled, resisting the urge to make another star chart. That yellow one was definitely not there three weeks ago. No, no science, focus on Cecil. Focus on how adorable he's being. Good. Continue.

" _Someone_ (he barely kept the contempt out of his voice) told me that that particular star isn't like the other ones. That tiny, supposedly insignificant dot is the most amazing, scientifically interesting star we see in Night Vale. Perhaps it's just one of our 'strange' things. Perhaps it's just an extended metaphor for everyone in the known worlds and I should save it for a broadcast. Perhaps it's a lie. But if the truth can only be seen through our eyes, then I will gladly accept this lie as truth. Do you know why?"

His theatrics were showing, leaving Carlos no choice but to lean in close and whisper, "Why?"

"Because," Cecil whispered back, leaning his forehead against his scientist's, "It's the only star Night Vale sees year-round. And even though we can always see it, even though it could rightfully be considered Our Star...it is unclaimed and unnamed by anyone. Nobody in the worlds with access to this star have claimed it as their own. That is, until right now." Cecil pulled away, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a worn piece of parchment. It couldn't have been more than five by seven inches, but there was a gold seal on it with a few indistinguishable markings and possibly an incantation of some sort. Cecil handed it to him with one of his small, shy smiles. "This only makes it official, but Carlos...you own a star now."

And it was definitely one of those weird Night Vale things because in that instance, he could  _feel_ it. He could sense something. More than that, he could sense Night Vale. He could feel the echoes of the town, of the people leaving Desert Flower, of the Hooded Figures in the Dog Park, of the Librarians and the Sheriff's Secret Police...he could feel it all. He looked back up at the strange little star overlooking the strange little town and he felt it all. Before he could ask about the Night Valean implications of owning a star, his eyes caught something shimmering on Cecil's hand. Managing to grasp it before Cecil could pull away, he immediately knew what the substance was upon touching it.

"Let me see," he said simply, continuing to hold Cecil's hand. "Please Cecil, let me help and please, tell me how I can help."

Without a word, the radio host rolled up his sleeve, revealing a few hastily bandaged lacerations. There wasn't much Carlos could do here, sitting on the trunk of the car. Under his quick inspection, he felt a bit better knowing Cecil had patched himself up before and hadn't been too sloppy on this job. There were a few patches of blood beginning to soak through, but they were small and not too worrisome for the time being. He brought the limb to his mouth and planted a kiss on an unstained part of the gauze. "Better?" he asked with a smile.

"Much."

So they sat in silence, savoring the last few minutes of starlight, before heading home for the night. As they lay in bed, Carlos couldn't stop thinking. How did Cecil find his Bucket List? How did Cecil even know what a Bucket List was? Was this a major invasion of privacy or a misunderstanding? Was he even mad? Was he right? Should he be mad? What else does Cecil know?

With a sigh, he ran a hand through his sleeping boyfriend's hair and smiled. If his mind decided on mad, then he'd figure out how to act on it later. Right now, officially off the performance high, he drifted off to sleep (or some facsimile of sleep).

It could wait until tomorrow.

~~18\. Perform In Front of an Audience (never gonna pull this off...)~~

~~7\. Own a Star~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you couldn't tell, the song was Eliezer's Waltz. :) And yes, Cecil wants to waltz with Carlos to it. That is my headcanon and I'm sticking to it. Also, sorry if this was kinda crappy, haven't been ridiculously happy with my writing lately. X3


	7. The Final Countdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil aims celebrate Carlos' One Year Anniversary of the Return From the Desert OtherWorld. Carlos figures everything out and proves that a scientist's more-than-associate is always fine. The Sheriff's Secret Police are confused. Oh, and the Erikas' plan comes to fruition as we enter the final chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, seems I can't keep on any schedule, can I? X3 Well, this is it: the big finale. No actually this thing is the longest chapter so enjoy the fluff and tiniest hint of plot I managed to squeeze into this story.

Today was the day everything came to an end.

Cecil left early in the morning, rushing out of the house with his satchel half-dangling off of his shoulder and portable coffee mug in hand. He barely had time to say goodbye or to explain why he was leaving in such a rush. Well, Carlos knew the reason for the latter as soon as their bedroom door started burning sigils into itself. Apparently, that was courtesy of Station Management. The resident radio host had all but leapt out of bed and made himself presentable in the span of five minutes before he was running out the door. They'd both had a feeling something like this would happen. It wasn't every day the Erikas completely renovated a major corporation.

Carlos just finished arranging his tools in his backpack when the radio flickered to life. This wasn't one of Cecil's show days. At least, not for extended news coverage and community updates. But this was a special occasion and although Cecil's show had only been a few days prior, this story desperately needed every and all of Night Vale's reporters. The scientist knew he'd be hearing all about how inept the head reporter of the Channel 6 News Team was later and he was both dreading and anticipating that conversation. After all, things could go very, very wrong. Weird, things always seemed to go wrong around this time of the year. He briefly wondered why before heading out the door himself.

The streets were barren, citizens either opting to stay inside and wait out the event or to be front and center as the Erikas (who did not exist) unleashed their plans across the dimensions. It made Carlos' trip to the lab much easier and faster. He just needed to grab an extra Danger Meter and one of the polaroid cameras. For some reason, Angels only showed up on polaroids and the scientists still hadn't quite figured out why. They always took twice the amount of pictures necessary for the Erikas themselves. Apparently, Erikas (while still not acknowledged on this plane of existence) were quite vain and also like to compare auras. Carlos didn't know how they could tell each other apart, as all Erikas showed up as vague, glowing outlines one would associate with second-rate ghost hunters, but whatever. They enjoyed the pictures and Old Woman Josie would repay them in baked goods and favors from the Sheriff's Secret Police.

"...outside of the building now." The Voice fluttered over the airwaves, sonorous as always. Carlos couldn't help but smile as he gathered the remaining equipment into his bag. "The Erikas - who we still cannot acknowledge but, for the sake of Community Radio, I am forced to do so anyways - have gathered in front of City Hall. Former Intern and current Mayor, Dana Cardinal, is standing among them. Oh, she informs us that an official statement about the once-malevolent company StrexCorp will be released shortly. As we wait, let's go to a word from our sponsors!"

By the time the sponsor had finished, Carlos arrived at City Hall. About half of Night Vale was there, torn between murmuring rumors and screaming miscellaneous slogans to the sky. All in all, not as weird as it could have been, probably because the event itself seemed overcast in somber tones. Something about this announcement and/or course of action was going to be big and it was going to affect everyone. Nobody knew how and yet, Night Vale _knew_.

Danger Meter and clipboard in hand, Carlos began pushing his way through the crowd, slowly making his way to the steps of City Hall. His boyfriend, practically drowning in the portable radio equipment, was off to the side, flipping switches and instructing an intern how to keep the broadcast up just in case something happened to him. Their eyes met and Cecil waved emphatically while continuing the broadcast, doting on his "handsome, wonderful Carlos" for about half a minute of air time before going back to the story.

A series of high-pitched "dings!" caught the scientist's attention. The Danger Meter's readings had spiked by three Fatality Units. While the area was still in the "Yellow's a Good Fellow!" zone, it was creeping dangerously close to "Red is Dead!" That marking itself represented debatable fatality as there was another zone ("Coal, You're In the Hole"), but still. The last time it hit red was when Cecil unleashed whatever the heck was inside of him upon some not-so-friendly Interlopers who basically threatened to raze the whole of Night Vale into the ground. Understandable and really freaking cool, but dangerous nonetheless.

Darting between citizens, he made his way over to Cecil and the new NVCR intern. Cecil's demeanor brightened considerably as he expertly managed to hug his boyfriend while maneuvering his mic so it wouldn't pick up background noise while still talking into it. Carlos was definitely going to ask Cecil about that trick some time in the future because that was flat-out impressive without a scrim.

"It appears that our resident scientist - and my super smart boyfriend - has joined me for a surprise interview!" Cecil exclaimed happily, pulling out of the embrace with ease. "So Carlos, do you have anything to share with our listeners? Any theories or, you know, general municipally approved science knowledge?"

"Well," he started as the over-eager host offered him the microphone. "There seem to be a steady increase in the count of Fatality Units. I'm not really sure what the Erikas are planning, or if it can be considered _good_ , but for good measure, have some sort of protective gear in place. A temporal displacer should do for those outside of City Hall, like us, or even a sturdy umbrella. Those usually work pretty well against most threats." Another ping from the machine told Carlos that they were now in the red.

"How informative! Thank you Carlos, for that important update," Cecil said, quickly planting a kiss on his boyfriend's nose. "Now, I believe the Erikas are ready to share their plans with us."

What followed next was almost indescribable. Not because it was horrific or truly terrible beyond words, but because it happened so quickly and with little warning. There wasn't even time for Carlos to dig the camera out of his backpack as a strong zephyr swept through the area. Some citizens towards the back of the crowd toppled over. Those in front managed to hold their ground, including both Carlos and Cecil. The sky filled with Void, the only light coming from the radio equipment, the Danger Meter, and the Erikas themselves. The intern was frantically flipping switches and pushing buttons. The broadcast had cut out and not even Cecil's unconnected microphone could properly function with this much divine intervention.

"Citizens of Night Vale," one Erika addressed. "You have assembled before us seeking news of those who were once part of StrexCorp. Us Angels rebel against a Smiling God for that God does not smile upon us. The hierarchy of Angels has been built anew and, therefore, any information regarding this hierarchy can now be regarded as public knowledge. No longer are you forced to dismiss us as 'nonexistent'."

"It was getting pretty annoying. Or, whatever..." a completely nude Erika added.

"The City Council has been made aware of this change in regime," the Erika continued, although it couldn't conceal an eye roll. "And in true Night Valean fashion, refuses to change the ways of old. Regardless, that is not the only announcement we are making today."

There was muffled gasp to Carlos' right. Looking for the source was unnecessary. He knew exactly who that was. Tearing his eyes away from Erika, he focused on Cecil. The man was clutching his microphone as a lifeline, eyes clenched shut and sweat breaking across his brow. He was in pain, that much was obvious, and Carlos quickly gathered him in his arms. "What's wrong?" he whispered.

"Re-education," Cecil offered with a grunt. "It...it tends to backfire with a conflict of interests. I'm not the only one." Carlos could confirm that. Across the crowd, he could pick out Steve Carlsberg handling the ordeal in a similar way. "It'll pass...I'll be fine." Cecil shot him a smile. "Not exactly the first time. Definitely one of the worst seeing as Angels do not exist...but they do...but it's not the first time. Give me a few minutes."

"For the past year, we have been working to restore areas owned by StrexCorp. This includes parts of Night Vale, Pine Cliff, and Red Mesa. However," the Erika paused, scanning its audience and gaging a reaction, "we recognize that Desert Bluffs has been hit the hardest." Cecil couldn't bite back a groan of contempt. "Everything there was a mess, and it still is a mess. We have done our best to salvage what was lost but unfortunately, even combined we do not have the power of a God. We cannot restore the citizens to what they once were and what they were meant to be." A few panicked comments spread throughout the crowd. Cecil, now recovered from his re-education-induced headache, took a tentative step towards the Erika.

"Erika," he said, Voice carrying throughout the area. "What exactly does that mean for us? What does that mean for the future?"

"It means...we have failed."

"I don't follow."

Another Erika turned to Cecil, crouching to maintain eye level with its almost-human counterpart. "The Smiling God no longer holds jurisdiction over us, but it's still out there and still very powerful. This past year, we set out to destroy believers. Not like, 'we smite-th thou!' but like...like destroying faith. Fixing those who were brainwashed. And we failed. Desert Bluffs practically kicked us out and StrexCorp as a whole continues to operate as it once did. We can stop them from invading other towns but we can't stop them from trying to convert others. Desert Bluffs is beyond our redemption, fully immersed with the power of the Smiling God."

 "I'm not the biggest fan of Desert Bluffs, but maybe there's a way to-"

"Cecil, a Voice is not enough," the black Erika interrupted, kneeling beside its younger compatriot. "The power of The Voice is great, but not greater than a Smiling God's. The Voice of Desert Bluffs should serve as your proof. We have considered every possible solution, every scenario and every piece in and out of play. There's simply nothing we can do and there's nothing you or any other citizen can offer."

"So the Smiling God is still out there, isn't it?" Cecil asked, eyes narrowed at the ground.

"As it always is," the first Erika said, rising to full height. "That threat will always remain over our heads. But as your protectors and Old Woman Josie's guardians, we will make it so no harm comes to pass this town. We've come to call it...home."

"Like, especially after so many of us became Erikas," the nude Erika piped in. "Really, there's a lot of us."

"We're running out of time," the black Erika stated as it stood. "You know where to find us if you have more questions."

Cecil could do little more than nod as the main Erika reclaimed everyone's attention. "We do, however, bear some good news: our performance of The Magic Flute will be playing at the Old New Opera House next Friday! More details in the community calendar. But before we officially conclude this meaning, let us bestow to you some parting words: live every day, but not necessarily as your last. Your last implies that there is an end, that a story will cease being told.

"Death is only the end if you assume the story is about you. Leave something behind, be that a message on a vandalized bathroom stall or a piece of art or a research paper. Live every day and do something with it. Your existence is ephemeral. You can only lose time. But whatever time you have with those you love, treat it like the gift it is. Hold onto moments you can never get back and make them count. Write a novel, complete a Bucket List, do something special that means something to you. Anything. Because the last thing we want to see is a life gone to waste." The Erika paused a moment, silence and a bit of befuddlement entrancing the crowd. "We will now be open to questions so please, annunciate and one at a time please."

And just like that, the silence was broken.

* * *

 

"Cecil, can I ask you a question?" Carlos mumbled into his boyfriend's head. They were curled up on the couch, finishing a movie on Netflix, simply reveling in each other's company.

"Mmyeah?" Cecil managed the slur, half-asleep on the scientist's lap. It took him hours to finish the impromptu show due to the sheer amount of questions for the Erikas as well as the new intern spontaneously becoming one of them, despite never crying once in the presence of the Erikas.

"Did you read my Bucket List?"

That woke him up.

Cecil snapped into a sitting position, eyes wide and staring into Carlos'. The expression was all the answer he needed.

He held gaze with the radio host for a few uncomfortable seconds before smiling. "I had a feeling," he said, putting a hand on the other man's shoulder, trying to ease the tension out of his body.

"H-How did you know?" Cecil asked, Voice far more withdrawn than usual.

"It was the clarinet. I know I've never told you about that, so you gave yourself away." Carlos leaned back into the cushions with a sigh. "To be honest, I was a little angry at first. That thing was hidden in one of my old college theses so there was no way you could've seen it without snooping, especially since it's usually in one of the desk drawers." Ignoring the distraught look on Cecil's face, he continued. "But I thought about it and I thought about you and then the Erikas said something today, about making things count, and...I remembered what happened around this time last year.

"I was so worried about you when...when _it_ happened," Carlos sighed, grasping one of Cecil's hands in his own and rubbing his knuckles. "That's what it felt like during Lane 5, wasn't it? That something so terrible was happening and it was all totally preventable, but you couldn't do anything to help? That you were trapped as a bystander while the most amazing person in your life nearly stopped existing on all planes of reality? Cecil, that scared me so much and no amount of science could bring you back from that. And I realized just how much I love you. Like, really,  _really_ love you and I don't know what I'd do if that happened again." He paused, shuffling a little closer to Cecil and taking his other hand.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is...you don't...have to do all this to show me that you love me."

"But I want to!" Cecil objected. "Carlos, I wanted to do something special for the anniversary of your return from the Desert OtherWorld. And I'm sorry for snooping, I was just trying to think of things and I thought there'd be some science paper on your desk and I could try to arrange something so you could get that science done and then I saw the Bucket List..."

"Cecil, I'm over it," Carlos reassured. "I'd really prefer that you don't do that again, but I'm over it. It's just, I don't want to see you give up so much for my happiness. We're in a relationship and that means we do this together. I want to see you happy and healthy just as much as you want to see me the same way. And basically running yourself into the ground to cross a few things off my Bucket List doesn't necessarily make me a happy scientist."

"I wasn't _exactly_ running myself into the ground..."

"You were punished by Station Management, took on about three shifts near the Dog Park for a member of the SSP, tolerated and owed a favor to Steve Carlsberg, owed another favor to the Sheriff himself, and you were going to allow the SSP to erase your memories of the entire week to let me remember what was in the Museum of Forbidden Technologies. On top of that, there was the prep for the Erikas, the event itself, and the usual broadcasts. If that's not running yourself into the ground, then I don't know what is."

"...How did you find out about the last one?"

"There was a red envelope on the doorstep, but that specific shade of red that indicates some sort of appointment. I asked our officer and they were more than happy to share the details."

"Carlooooooooooooosssssssssss, that was supposed to be a surpriiiiiiiiiisssssssseeeee!" Cecil whined, flopping back into the cushions and burying his face in his hands.

"It would have been a pretty terrible surprise to wake up to the SSP wheeling you away to re-education and then having them remove some of my favorite moments of us together!" Carlos snapped back. "I don't want that to happen. I know how...faulty your memory is to begin with but this? And us? Cecil Gershwin Palmer, I swear to all the elements of Night Vale, both discovered and otherwise, you are going to remember all of this relationship or so help me Sir Isaac Newton!" He grabbed Cecil's wrists and gently pulled his hands away from his face. "I love you, Cecil. And you better goddamn remember that."

There were tears in Cecil's eyes, but not the sad kind. He was smiling and not really bothering to wipe them away. "...I think this is the first time in a very long time that I'm going to remember a person - or otherwise - tell me that."

"I will whisper it in your ear every day," Carlos promised, gathering his boyfriend in a hug. "I promise Cecil, I will always love you just for you."

"Carlos..." Cecil said hesitantly. "I do have one more thing to cross off your Bucket List. And I swear, I owe no favors for this one. I cashed in a favor."

"Oh? What is it?" Carlos had to will the ball of dread away from his mind.

"Leann Hart owed me a favor and she delivered," he explained. "Even without the Bucket List, I know you've wanted to publish something about Night Vale for a long time. You can do it now. She'll publish whatever it is that you write. You can write a book if you want to. Write a novel, Carlos. I'd love to read it."

"Thank you," Carlos replied softly, planting a kiss on the other's forehead. "Although I have a feeling that, if I were to publish anything, everybody outside of Night Vale would consider it fiction."

"They'll believe what they want to believe and we'll know what we know." Cecil looked up at him, still smiling and still crying slightly. But he looked like the happiest person in the world. "Happy Anniversary, Carlos."

"Happy Anniversary, Cecil."

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the night, content with each other's presence and existence. They stayed together on the couch, lost in thought and in love. Cecil drifted off to sleep, no longer bemoaning the fact that he'd fallen short of his goal and far more conscious of what he would do for Carlos and what Carlos would do for him.

Unbeknownst to the radio host, he did indeed reach his goal. As he fell into a deeper and deeper sleep, a scientist was playing with his hair and reveling in what he could finally do for Cecil.

~~21\. Write a Novel (or book or something...just get published)~~

~~27\. Get Cecil to Really Know That He Is Loved~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: You can hear me three times in the recording of The Librarian. I'm the second or third Aries "woo!", one of the "yeah!" replies when Cecil asks if we're afraid, and the first person to cheer for Hal Lublin. We can be immortals.
> 
> DONE!!!! Hope y'all enjoyed the fluff fest because this literally rotted my brain with sweetness. Like, this is literally the cutest, fluffiest, humor-romance fic I have written to date. And that is all about to change...
> 
> And I half-assed some plot. I'm going to add this to my main WtNV series so I can reference back to it in whatever future stories I have planned and so I have some sort of meandering plotline to work off of. XD And I totally have a headcanon about Bad Things Happening To Cecil during the end of Year Three. Ugh, can't wait.


End file.
